Snippets
by DragonLady37
Summary: A collection of one-shots, little snippets, focusing on Dramione and all of their many possibilities. Other pairings possible: Hansy, Raphne (is that even a thing?), Bluna, Blinny, and Nottpott.. Rated M, just in case.
1. Firewhiskey and Cedar

**"Firewhiskey and Cedar"  
_Rated: T_  
**

* * *

The room spun as Hermione threw back another shot of Ogden's Finest. It burned her throat, as had every other shot that preceded it. She looked around the bar, the other people in it still in focus, despite how the floor tilted this way and that. If she wanted them to blur, she needed more.

"Another, please," she said to the bartender.

"I think you've had enough," the young man said, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, leaning forward, only to catch herself on the bar top as she wobbled.

"Everyone knows who you are," came a new voice from her left. She spun, closing her eyes as dizziness overwhelmed her. She opened her eyes again and wished she hadn't.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" she groaned, exasperated.

"Looking for you," he said as he sat, lifting his hand toward the bartender, who sat a glass of Ogden's in front of the blond as well.

"I wish you wouldn't," Hermione said, dropping her forehead to her folded hands as the firewhiskey threatened to come back up. "I wish you'd just leave me alone." Her voice was muffled.

"Can't do that, Granger," he said as he sipped his firewhiskey. "Here." He poured a vial into her empty glass. "Sober-Up potion. Drink it before you throw up on my new shoes."

Hermione growled, pushed herself up, and glared at him. He sipped his firewhiskey again and nodded toward the glass.

"Brewed it myself," he said, sitting his glass on the bar. "So you know it's the best."

With a huff, Hermione threw the potion back, grimacing at the bitter flavor. As soon as she swallowed, the room stopped tilting and the buzz she'd been cultivating vanished. The nausea was the last to go, and when it was gone, she let out a little sigh.

"OK. I'm sober. Mission accomplished. You can report back to the office that I won't splinch myself while apparating and embarrass the ministry," she said as she slid off the stool to leave.

"Is that why you think I'm here?" he asked, pushing his Ogden's away.

"Why else would you be?" she spat out, immediately regretting it when he gritted his teeth and glared over at her. They'd been doing so well at work, working as partners, getting along. "I'm sorry. I - "

"Get home safe, Granger," he said, throwing some coins onto the table and standing to leave.

She watched him go. Watched the door close behind him. She wasn't going to follow. There was no reason to. She wouldn't -

"Bloody hell," she said as she stood, paid for her drinks in a rush, and practically ran down the street after him.

"Malfoy!" she called. He was walking up ahead and didn't even pause in his stride, though she knew he heard her. She shook her head and picked up her pace. "Draco, please!" She grabbed his arm and he stopped.

"I didn't come because someone from work sent me," he said, gritting his teeth as he turned to face her. "Though, if they knew what state you were in most nights, you'd probably be canned." He pulled his arm from her hand. "I came because I was worried about you."

"Why?" she asked, staring up at him. "My husband left me and I'm angry. It's a pretty normal reaction!"

"Your husband left you, _because_ you're so angry, Granger." His voice was calm in the face of her volatility and she felt tears spring to her eyes. "The war damaged us all, and - "

"My husband left me to get away from what I've turned into," she said, stepping into his personal space, her eyes narrowed in anger. "We were in love, you know?" she said, fighting the urge to break with the memory of Ron, how he'd looked at her near the end - with pain and pity in his soft blue eyes. "And I botched it. I let the war stay with me, let it poison me, even after it was said and done, and it drove him away." Tears broke free and trailed down her face. "So tell me again, _why are you here?_" She shoved him, her hands connecting with his pressed suit. He barely wavered.

He sighed as he looked down at her. Her hair was a mess. Her cheeks were tear-stained and red. Despite the Sober-Up potion, she reeked of firewhiskey.

"I'm here, Granger, because I'm broken, too. Because I'm bloody angry, too." He gripped her shoulders, his fingers stiff, but his pressure gentle. "And because I care about you, dammit."

Hermione looked up at Draco, looked up into his eyes, which were open and wild. Yet, despite how unstable he looked, his grip on her shoulders was soft, as if he were afraid she might break.

"Besides," he said, his voice gruff, and she met his eyes. "We're partners. Right?"

"At work, we're partners," she said, her previous vitriol gone.

"We're _partners,_" he said, squeezing her arms lightly. "On duty or not. And partners take care of each other."

She looked up at him again, and the softness, the raw emotion that she saw in his eyes nearly broke her. "OK," she choked out before the floodgates opened.

Ron had left her. Her sweet, funny Ron, her best friend, had left her. It had been nearly a year, and it still ached like a fresh wound every time she pictured his face. She was falling into a pit of alcohol and loneliness. She was falling, and could find no handholds. Tears poured down her cheeks as he remembered, as she felt what her life was becoming.

"Let me take care of you for a while," Draco said, stepping a bit closer. He smelled like cedar, like the blankets her mother had kept in a cedar chest when she was a girl. The smell had always been a comfort then.

"OK," she choked out again, before she fell into his chest. His arms encircled her, holding her against him. She could hear his heartbeat. He smelled like cedar, like warm blankets and safety. She clung to his waist as all of it - all the pain, the grief, the anger - came rushing forth. He held her, kept her standing, as it all threatened to pull her under.

"I've got you," he said, his voice heavy with relief, and she clung to him even tighter. "I've got you."


	2. Snitches and Sun Showers

**"Snitches and Sun Showers"  
_Rated: T_  
**

* * *

Wind whipped past his hair as he leaned forward, fingers gripping the wood of his broomstick tightly. He scanned the sky, grateful that it was mostly overcast, as the golden snitch would be easier to spot against the gray clouds.

For the last few games, he'd failed to catch the snitch. Draco Malfoy, seeker for the Appleby Arrows, had failed to catch the bloody snitch, which was no good at all. Not because his team had lost - the Arrows had still won, thanks to excellent chasers and beaters - but because his girlfriend was in the stands, and he had a _plan, _dammit. And if he didn't catch the snitch, that plan couldn't happen. He searched the skies, praying to all the gods to see it.

He caught a glimmer of gold up and to his right and his heart soared. He darted for it, relishing in the feel of cool wind and light rain as he zipped through the air.

He _needed_ to catch this snitch. It was the last game of the regular season, and if he didn't catch it, he couldn't go through with his plan. He'd been dating a witch for over a year, but they'd kept it secret, and he was tired of keeping it secret. He was still working on increasing the public's opinion of him, and being chosen as seeker for one of the best quidditch teams in England, in spite of his rather sordid past, had helped, but his girlfriend - who, mind you, was the brightest witch of their age - had insisted that he needed to win back the public on his own, without her in the picture. Hermione Granger was the wizarding world's sweetheart, and her worry was that if they went public before he'd been popularly accepted, people would speculate that he was with her to ride on her coattails. And he wasn't.

The only people who knew were her closest friends - Potter, Weasley, and the Weaslette - and a few of his - Blaise and Theo. And they'd all been sworn to secrecy, lest the secret get out and undo pressures be put on their relationship.

But he was tired of waiting. He wanted the world to know about them. They could handle whatever the press threw at them. Which was why he needed to catch this bloody snitch. The plan had been for Draco to get the general public to, if not love him, then tolerate him again. The Appleby Arrows were beloved, and everyone loved the players. Gaining positive publicity had been easier than he'd thought. The camera loved him in the Arrows' uniform - the pale blue robes were very flattering, and the silver arrow on the front made his silvery eyes really pop. At least, that's what Hermione said. She'd saved every newspaper clipping in a scrapbook.

Honestly, Draco didn't care a whole lot about what the rest of the world thought about him. He just knew that if he wanted his relationship with Hermione to have any chance of success, the world had to accept him, and after that, them. Otherwise, they'd be torn apart by the media.

He checked in on the other seeker - easy to spot in black and yellow stripes - and saw that he, too, was circling and searching. Below, beaters and chasers battled for points. He checked out the scoreboard - the Arrows were way ahead, but not far enough ahead to earn the Arrows a win if the other keeper were to find the snitch first.

He dove, hoping the other seeker - a bloke by the name of of Hopkins - would see him and think he'd spotted the snitch. Sure enough, as Draco flew low in a circle directly over the stands, eyes wide as he searched, not for the snitch, but for curly brown hair, Hopkins followed. Draco smirked and Arrows' fans clapped as he soared closer and closer.

He made it around to the Arrows' side of the pitch, and there she was. Her cinnamon-colored eyes were wide and he couldn't resist the urge to roll right above her head, laughing as she covered her mouth, then glared up at him from the stands. He gave her a wink as he zoomed by, Hopkins right on his tail.

Across the pitch, something glinted in a ray of sunlight. It was still raining lightly, but streams of sunlight had broken through - a sun shower - and Draco felt a renewed desire to catch the snitch.

He dove through patches of sunlight and rain and knew that this was going to be his day.

* * *

The day he'd finally plucked up the courage and asked Hermione Granger on a date, it had been raining. He'd seen her, sitting under an awning at a little cafe, unsurprisingly reading a book and sipping something from a mug.

He'd been trying to figure out a way to ask her out for week - ever since he'd read in the Prophet that she and her long time boyfriend, Oliver Rivers, had broken up. He'd half expected Weasley to swoop in with the news. He'd watched - not in a creepy way, of course - from afar to see if he would. Draco Malfoy was ambitious, but he was also a realist. If Ronald Weasley wised up after years of ignorance and decided he wanted Hermione Granger, Draco had no doubt they would be married within a year. But, fortunately for him, she'd dated Rivers for nearly three years, and during that time, Weasley had gotten engaged to someone else. So Draco had waited a month after she dumped Rivers, four painfully long weeks, before he let himself make a move.

He ducked into the cafe from the rain, knowing his hair was damp, his shoulders were damp, and only sparing a moment to push his bangs back before he went out to the patio where she was.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, walking up to her as confidently as he could.

She looked up at him, startled, and lowered her book to the table. "Malfoy," she said, placing a bookmark in the pages. "Um, no. Have a seat." She motioned toward the seat, looking at him warily.

"Thank you," he said with a smile, hoping it was suave and charming, but feeling awkward and sweaty and damp. "What are you having?" he asked, motioning toward her mug.

"Just coffee," she said, eyes narrowed. Were her cheeks pink? Or was he imagining that?

"Perfect." He raised his hand and a waiter came over. "A coffee for me, and another for Ms. Granger. And be sure to bring cream, please."

The waiter nodded and left, and Hermione still stared.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked, eyes narrowed, but her voice lacked any anger. Over the last few years, they'd become civil acquaintances, but never had they sat down together like this. It wasn't unheard of for him to strike up small talk when they crossed paths.

"I'm buying you a coffee, Granger," he said, straightening his shirt sleeves.

"Why?" she asked, turning toward him slightly.

"Can't a bloke just buy a coffee for a bird?"

"Yes," she said, a smirk stretching across her lips, "but _Draco Malfoy_ can't just buy a coffee for _Hermione Granger_ out of the blue without at least a few questions." She leaned toward him. "And since when do _you _use such colloquial language like _bloke _and _bird_?" She was smiling at him. Almost laughing. And rather than feel upset by that, he found himself smiling back.

"Honestly?" he asked, eyebrows lifted, and the waiter sat their coffees and cream down before turning and walking away again.

"Honestly," she said, pouring cream into the rich, black liquid and stirring it with a spoon.

"I read in a Muggle magazine that one way to endear yourself to a woman you fancied was to avoid using _elevated language._" He picked up the sugar canister and dumped a healthy amount into his coffee before taking the cream from where she'd left it on the table and adding some of that as well.

"A woman you fancied?" she asked, voice tight.

He finally let himself meet her eyes, his cheeks rosy, and was surprised to see that she was smirking at him.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" He cleared his throat and sipped his coffee. Far too much sugar, but he would drink it just to have something to do with his hands.

Hermione sat back in her chair and surveyed him as she sipped her coffee. "Is this supposed to be a date?" she asked, smirk still on her face.

Draco sat up straighter, pulling at his sleeves again. "Possibly." He sipped his sugary coffee again, before sitting it on the tablecloth, afraid he might spill it as his hands trembled.

"No. This is _not _a date, Malfoy," she said, her smirk growing into an actual smile.

"Well, why not?" he asked, flustered and frustrated. He felt his forehead crease and tried to smooth out his expression, failing miserably.

"Because you didn't _ask _me. Obviously." Hermione sipped her coffee, her eyes sparkling. The rain outside was light, and as he watched, the clouds seemed to open up in spots, and sunlight streamed through the rain in a lovely, dappled way. "Oh, look," she said, turning away from him to look toward the street. "A sun shower. Isn't it lovely?" She turned back to him, eyebrows raised, expression open.

"What?" He looked toward the street, toward the sun streaming through the rain. "Oh, yes. Lovely." His brow furrowed. "So, wait. You're saying this _isn't _a date, because I didn't ask you? And that's the only reason it's not?"

"Of course," she said with a shrug. The patches of sunlight from the sun shower moved in a dappled pattern behind her and a cool breeze blew past.

"Alright." He took a deep breath and leaned forward. "Well, Granger?"

She smiled and sat her coffee down beside her book, leaning forward toward him as well, her elbows on the table. "Yes, Malfoy?"

He clasped his hands to cease their shaking. "Would you like to go on a date with me?" His words hung in the air between them and it felt like his heart might explode as he waited.

Her face broke into a brilliant smile, just as the sun had broken through the clouds. She picked up her coffee and nestled it in both hands, sitting back and looking at him over the rim. "I'd love to."

* * *

This sun shower, during such a pivotal moment both then and now, had to be a sign. He _would_ catch the snitch, he would fly to Hermione and pluck her from the stands, and while the wizarding world watched, he would kiss her and the world would finally know. It would be, quite literally, _magical._

The snitch. It was flying through patches of sunlight. Hopkins was just a few broomlengths behind him. Draco leaned forward, flying through both light and dark as the light rain cooled the sweat on his body. There it was, finger lengths ahead. He reached, arms and neck straining, and then - as if in a dream - his fingers closed around the snitch. The wings went still and retracted in his palm and after a moment, the crowd erupted.

His heart soared. He pumped his fist in the air and swerved, ready to head back toward Hermione. The announcer was yelling, the crowd was cheering, and he darted through the air toward his girl when, without warning, the air was knocked from his lungs as a bludger collided with his stomach. He tumbled through the air to land in a painful heap on the quidditch pitch below.

He'd been close to the ground, so the fall itself didn't hurt him, but he was pretty sure the bludger had broken a few ribs. The snitch was still in his hand though, and from the ground, he put his fist in the air again to let the crowd know he was ok. They cheered again, but the moment was tainted with the knowledge that he couldn't have his moment with Hermione.

He pushed himself up to sitting, wincing at the pain lancing through his abdomen, and was immediately bowled over as a body, topped with wild, curly hair, wrapped itself around him.

"Are you hurt?" Hermione asked as she disentangled herself from him, but remained sitting on his lap, straddling his waist, holding his face in her hands. "Are you OK?"

He stared at her for a long moment, wincing as she pressed into his torso. The stadium had gone quiet around them, but she seemed oblivious as she stared wildly at his face.

"Draco!" she screeched, turning his head this way and that. "Are you _OK?_"

He smiled and pushed himself up further, his free hand going around her waist, as he showed her the now still snitch in the other.

"I caught it," he said with a smirk, and she smacked his chest, making him grimace as he pain radiated out from the impact. "Oh! Ribs, Hermione. Ribs."

"Sorry!" she said, grimacing and letting her hands float over the injured area. "Sorry."

"You know," he said, pushing past the pain to smile at her, fully aware of the hundreds of eyes watching them as if they were a show on the telly. "Everyone can see us right now," he said. She looked around and her cheeks bloomed crimson, but then she turned back and he watched a grin spread across her face.

"Then let's give them something to look at," she said, and before he could process her words, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, keeping the snitch firmly in one hand, and returned her kiss with fervor, even though it _really _hurt.

There was a beat of silence, and then the crowd erupted into a cheer, even louder than they'd cheered when he'd caught the snitch and been bowled from the sky by a stray bludger. Hermione smiled against his lips and deepened the kiss as her arms slipped around his neck. Only when she squeezed against him, and he jumped at the pain in his ribs, did she stop and look down at him sheepishly.

"Sorry again," she said. The sun shower was beginning to let up, the clouds lifting to be replaced with only warm sunlight.

"It was worth it to be kissed like that by a _bird_ like you." He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed.

"Come on," she said, helping him up and draping his arm over her shoulders. "The Prophet's going to have _so many _questions," she said with a smirk. "They may even have a few about the game, if you're lucky."

"You're ridiculous," he said. She reached up and laced their fingers together where his arm rested across her shoulders.

They walked across the quidditch pitch as other players zoomed above them, shouting out their congratulations as photographers snapped photos from the sidelines.

"We're public now," he said, wincing as his ribs were jostled. "Are you ready for what that means?"

She squeezed his fingers and smirked up at him, hair damp and hanging around her face and her cinnamon eyes sparkling. "I"m the one who attacked _you_ on the pitch without asking," she said, her cheeks pink. "I should have asked first. I'm sorry. I should have - "

"Granger," he said, tugging her closer, despite the pain in his ribs.

She smiled. He never called her that, and when he did, she knew it was going to be something good. "Yes, Malfoy?" She echoed their words from that first day in the cafe.

"Would you like to go with me and tell the world about how crazy we are about one another?" he asked, smirking down at her beside him.

She laughed and adjusted his arm on her shoulders to try and relieve some of the discomfort. "I'd love to."


	3. A Lopsided Smile and a Tequila Sunrise

**"A Lopsided Smile and a Tequila Sunrise"  
_Rated: T_  
**

* * *

"I really don't want to intrude." Pansy Parkinson sat on the modest sofa in the modest home of Draco and Hermione Malfoy. The idea that Draco, her oldest and dearest friend, having a modest _anything _was still shocking to her, but he seemed happy, stupidly happy, so she held her tongue. And besides, she'd grown rather fond of his wife - not that she'd go around saying that to just anyone.

"How can you be intruding if we're _inviting_ you?" Hermione asked as she sipped her tea, legs curled under her in the plush armchair beside the couch.

"I'd be the third wheel," she said, sitting back in a huff, reminiscent of a small child.

"We've invited other people," Hermione said, eyes brightening.

"Who?" Pansy asked, but before Hermione could answer, Draco walked in and clapped his hands.

"Ready, ladies?" he asked with a broad smile. Never, in all the years she'd known him, had she seen him smile as much as he had since he married Hermione-bloody-Granger. It was a very odd, but nice, change. Not that she'd ever tell _him _that.

"As I was telling Hermione, I don't want to int-"

"Great!" Draco said, in typical Draco-fashion, hearing what he wanted to hear. He offered his hand to his wife, then pulled her to standing, and gave Pansy a smirk. "The car's waiting."

"Car?" Pansy sighed, sitting her half drunk mug on a coaster and standing. There was no getting out of going now.

"We're going into _Muggle London,_" Draco said in an exaggerated way, as if it were the most exciting, scandalous thing he could imagine. She smirked at him, though, if she were being honest, going into Muggle London _was _a rather frightening prospect for Pansy, not that she'd let either of the Malfoys know that.

With a silent groan, she followed the happily married pair to the car, where they all got into the magically extended back. Draco had a driver, and the car was enhanced back. Despite his newfound Muggle-appreciation, he was still Draco Malfoy, and that thought helped settle her nerves a little bit.

* * *

They pulled up to a pub maybe a half hour later, but it was nothing like the pubs she frequented in wizarding London. Immediately Pansy felt in over her head. The Leaky was dark and brooding and she could always hide in a dark corner or with some magic if she needed. The upscale, posh pubs she frequented with some of her socialite friends were elegant with floating candles and live harpists and the like, but still dark and easy to hide in. This pub was brightly lit with people everywhere, and some American pop song played all around them as if it were leaking from the walls. They walked in, and Pansy half-expected everyone to turn and stare - it happened a lot with the Malfoys, as they were still a big deal even years after their marriage - but no one did. Suddenly, Pansy saw the appeal of a Muggle pub - though she'd never tell her friends that if they asked.

Draco looked around, waved to someone once, then headed off toward the back, leaving with long, sure strides.

Pansy jumped when Hermione's hand slid into hers. Pansy looked down at Hermione - she was so short - and tried to mask the worry on her face, but Hermione just smiled and gave her hand as squeeze.

"It took Draco a long time to get used to Muggle establishments," she said with a shrug as she led Pansy back in the direction Draco had gone at a more sedate pace to avoid bumping into other pub patrons. "He used to get all sweaty and red and flustered every time he had to talk to anyone. It was really adorable how out of place he seemed, knowing he was trying so hard. Now he swears he prefers Muggle pubs. Even has some Muggle mates he goes out and plays rugby with some weekends." Hermione smiled, still holding Pansy's hand as they navigated the busy space. "And, to be honest, I tried to talk them into a wizarding pub for tonight, but, well, you know how stubborn Draco is. And Harry - "

"Potter?" Pansy asked, pulling them to a stop. She could see Draco shaking someone's hand, but couldn't see past him to see who it is. "Potter's here?" Pansy was proud of how level her voice sounded, in spite of how her heart fluttered around. Potter was attractive. Potter was nice to her. Potter was someone she didn't terribly mind seeing at Draco's little get togethers he had so often. Not that she'd tell anyone any of those things. Ever.

"Oh, yes. I didn't get to tell you at our house, did I? We invited a few other people as well, but they were all busy. Ron was out with Lavender for some anniversary - they celebrated literally _every _milestone of their relationship - and Blaise and Luna were out of town. So it's just the four of us." Hermione was a terrible liar, and in this moment, Pansy knew she was lying.

"Are you trying to set me up with Harry Potter?" Pansy asked, squeezing Hermione's hand unpleasantly.

"Of course I'm not," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Hermione was a terrible liar, but in this moment she was telling the truth.

Something in Pansy wilted, but she kept her irritated facade up and nodded. "Well, good. Let's go, then." With false confidence, she took the lead, pulling Hermione by the hand until they were at the table with Draco and none other than Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and the boy who was always nice to her.

"Took you long enough," Harry said as he pulled Hermione in for a hug. Pansy thought he may have whispered something to her after that, but couldn't make it out. He let go of Hermione and looked at Pansy, his cheeks red and his glasses askew. He awkwardly held his hand out for her to shake, and she rolled her eyes.

"Hello, Potter," she said, shaking his hand firmly and letting it drop quickly.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Draco clapped his hands together and drew everyone's attention. It was now Hermione's turn to roll her eyes.

"Let's sit, shall we?" He motioned toward the bench, and Hermione slid in, Draco beside her, his arm immediately going around her waist and drawing her close. They were always like that. Always touching and whispering. It was disgusting, and Pansy hated how much she envied it. Not that she'd ever want that with Draco - that ship sailed long ago - but with someone. Not that she had, or would, ever tell anyone that.

"Oh, er, yes." Harry motioned to their side of the booth, still extremely awkward, and Pansy rolled her eyes again. She stepped past him and her hand brushed his, and she was grateful that she'd worn her short hair down, as it swung forward and covered the slight blush that suddenly appeared on her pale cheeks. When she chanced a look over at him, he wore a lopsided smile to match his crooked glasses and hair that was all askew, and that wilted part of herself perked up just a bit.

Draco ordered a bottle of wine for the table. Hermione rolled her eyes, but held her tongue. Pansy was just about to berate him for ordering things for everyone without asking, when Potter spoke up beside her.

"I'm not a fan of a dry red," he said, looking right at her, green eyes bright. "Would you like something else? My treat." Was he nervous? He seemed nervous.

"I - " her cheeks heated. "I've never ordered anything in a Muggle pub before," she said with shame and embarrassment, but Potter just gave her that lopsided smile.

"Well," Potter said, turning toward her slightly, his knee bumping against hers. "How about I surprise you then? You like fairy ale, yeah?"

Pansy nodded slowly, her features pinched. How did Harry Potter know what she drank?

"Brilliant. Be back in a jiff." Crooked smile on his face, Harry stood and made his way to the bar. He wasn't as tall as Draco - he was really only an inch or so taller than Pansy - but he was fit. He looked rather good in his Muggle jeans and white tee shirt. Very different than Draco in his pressed, gray slacks and tailored button down, but not in a bad way. Not that she'd _ever _tell Potter _that._

"I suppose I should ask if you'd also like something other than a dry red," Draco drawled, looking at his wife with false annoyance. Even Pansy could see the twinkle in his eye as he played the part of rich arsehole to perfection.

Hermione laughed and smirked at him. "Surprise me," she said. "I dare you."

He growled at her low in his throat, then leaned in and kissed her cheek, lingering a moment too long for comfort, as far as Pansy was concerned.

"The two of you are the worst. Absolutely disgusting," Pansy said as he left, her face a mask of irritability. In her mind, a brief imagining of Potter kissing her cheek flashed, but she quickly pushed it away. That was something she'd never tell anyone.

Hermione laughed. "We're very aware." She smiled at her husband as he joined Potter at the bar, then turned to Pansy across the table. "We spent _so _many years hating each other. You know? Then, even after we realized we didn't actually hate each other, we had to spend so long pretending we weren't dating, _pretending _not to be in love. It was just awful. Now that we don't have to hide anything, it's just nice to be able to let it all out, you know? Sort of like we're making up for lost time, I guess. It's freeing."

"Hermione," Pansy said, leaning on her forearms to get closer to the frizzy haired brunette. "You told me you _weren't _trying to set me up with Potter. Were you lying?" Pansy felt raw hope bloom in her chest, and she tamped it down. Parkinsons didn't hope for things. Parkinsons took what they wanted.

Hermione sat up straight and made an X motion across her chest. "Cross my heart, I'm not."

Pansy sat back, that same feeling of something wilting, burning in her chest. "It sure seems like you are," Pansy grumbled.

Harry returned a moment later with a bottle that said _Golden Glory_ across a paper label, and Pansy rolled her eyes. In front of her, he sat a tall glass with red liquid on bottom, fading to orange at the top, and topped with an orange wedge and a cherry.

"What is this?" she asked, looking at him, eyes squinted.

Harry adjusted his glasses on his nose. "It's called a tequila sunrise. It's quite sweet, but so's fairy ale, so I thought you'd like. It's pretty strong, though, so fair warning." He pushed his glasses up again.

Tentatively, Pansy brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. The sweet, tangy flavor washed over her tongue, followed by the bite of Muggle alcohol. She smiled and sat the cup down. "That's quite good," she said, and was rewarded when his lovely, lopsided smile graced his features, his glasses slipping down his nose again. "Thank you."

"And what did you bring me?" Hermione asked as Draco returned, his bottle of red in one hand, two glasses in the other.

"You said to surprise you, so I thought, what would be more surprising than sharing a bottle of wine with your loving husband?" He smiled, and she scowled, though it was clear to anyone who knew them there was no real anger in it.

"You know I don't like dry wine," she said, facing him with her eyebrows raised.

Harry leaned toward Pansy and said in a fake whisper, "They have to fight about something, no matter where we go. I think they like the attention."

Pansy glanced at him, so close to her shoulder, and felt herself blush again.

"Does it ever end in bloodshed?" she asked, turning slightly to face Potter.

"Not _usually_," he said with a lopsided smile before he leaned away again.

"Just read the label," Draco said, rolling his eyes as he nudged the bottle closer to her.

Hermione snatched it up and her expression melted from anger to adoration. "You traded it for sweet. This is the wine we drank at our wedding."

"And the wine your parents drank at theirs. I'm not a monster," he said, straightening his sleeves, and Hermione leaned into him.

"He is, though," Hermione deadpanned, and Draco rolled his eyes. He slipped his arm back around her and kissed her curls as she carefully poured a glass of sweet red for each of them. "But I love him anyway."

"Someone has to," he said with a shrug.

"The two of you are very strange," Pansy said, sipping her drink and feeling her lips buzz. Potter was right, it was strong.

"They're the worst," Harry said with a smile, and Pansy felt herself smile back.

* * *

When it was time to leave the put, Pansy felt a little unsteady on her feet. She'd only had the one drink, and had drunk it slowly, but it had gone straight to her head. Those Muggles really knew how to mix a drink.

"We can drop you at your flat, Pans," Draco said as Hermione hugged Harry goodbye, whispering something else in his year. Pansy's eyes flitted to Potter, and he caught her gaze and smiled. She wanted him to whisper something in her ear. And she was almost intoxicated enough to tell him just that.

"I live near her," Harry said quickly, then cleared his throat. "I have my broom and my cloak. I don't mind to take her home." He gave Pansy a quick, lopsided smile. "Besides, the two of you get handsy after wine. I'm sure Pansy doesn't want to witness that in the back of your car."

"Definitely don't want to see that," she heard herself say, her cheeks pink and her stance wobbly.

Hermione was grinning from ear to hear. She crossed over to Pansy and pulled the slightly intoxicated girl into a fierce hug.

"You said you weren't trying to set us up," Pansy whispered into Hermione's hair, and Hermione laughed.

"I'm not," she whispered, hugging her again. "But _Draco _is. And it's _working!_" Pansy's face flamed.

Hermione pulled back and squeezed Pansy's shoulders. "Let us know when you're both home safely, alright?"

Draco gave Pansy a wink and shook Potter's hand, and then they were gone, the car's rear lights fading as they sped off down the street.

"My broom's just down this alley," he said, awkwardly offering her his arm. She wobbled slightly and took it, blushing at how warm his skin was under her hands. "Oh," he said, fumbling in his pocket. "Here. I always bring Sober-Up with me, just in case, and, well - " he blushed. "If I fly with a buzz, I get motion sick. So."

"Thanks," she said, taking the small vial from him. Did his fingers linger a little too long on hers? Her head was too fuzzy to be sure.

When they were down the alley where no Muggles could see, she downed the potion, grimacing at the bitter flavor. But almost immediately she felt steadier on her feet and her mind cleared. "Thank you. That's much better." Though, and she'd never tell anyone this, she instantly missed the emotional barrier being a little drunk had afforded her.

Harry shrugged, almost self consciously, and took the empty vial, pocketing it again. He looked down the well-lit alley, then pulled his invisibility cloak from his broom, which was propped in the alley. "Are you comfortable on a broom?" he asked.

"Very," she said, feigning confidence and feeling much more self conscious now that she was sober again.

"Good," he said, relieved. "Hermione's a nightmare to fly with. She panics and you can't enjoy a moment of it. He mounted the broom and looked to her - his cheeks were definitely pink. "Where would you like to sit?" he asked, his voice breaking a little as his green eyes opened wide. He had lovely eyes, though she'd never tell him that. Probably.

"In front," she said, boldly, though her hands shook as she mounted the broom in front of him and scooted back against his chest. He _was _fit beneath his tee shirt. And warm.

"We'll have to wear the cloak," he said as he draped the invisibility cloak around them.

She nodded. As soon as they were covered, his arms slipped beside her to grip the broom handle in front of her, and she couldn't help but shiver. She hoped he just thought she was cold. With his hands on the broom in front of her, his chest pressed into her back, and she wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands. She was glad he'd given her some Sober-Up, as she'd probably have done something foolish otherwise, like cover his hands in hers or grip his thighs with her fingers. She wondered if his thighs were as fit as his chest and blushed a shade of red that could rival a Weasley.

"Ready?" he asked - he sounded as breathless as she felt - and she nodded.

He kicked off, and she gasped, her hands scrambling for purchase somewhere. He let go of the broom handle with one hand and shyly wrapped his arm around her waist. She immediately grabbed his arm, holding on tightly. Her cheeks, already crimson, heated even more and she felt his shy arm firm up against her. It felt wonderful.

"I've got you," he said into her ear, his voice low, and she shivered again.

They flew in relative silence, Harry never relinquishing his grip on her waist, and Pansy never letting go of his arm. She was disappointed, then, when she saw her street down below.

When they reached her flat, he landed, and pulled the cloak away. She reluctantly let go of him and slid off the broom, only a little surprised when he followed, walking her to her door.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," he said, hands in his pockets, hair windblown across his forehead in a way that made her want to push it back - not to fix it, just to touch it.

"Me too." She took a deep breath. "Thank you for helping me at the pub. I don't know much about Muggles," she said, admitting a weakness, her heart racing with nerves.

"Of course," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looked into her eyes and her heart rate sped up even more. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, made her heart flutter. She wanted to tell someone this. "Did the Sober-Up work?" he asked, eyes bright.

"Yes," she said, confused. "Totally and completely back to normal." He was looking at her strangely, and it made her want to fidget. But Parkinsons did _not _fidget.

"Good," he said, seeming relieved. "I wanted to ask you something, and I wanted to make sure you were clear-headed and in your right mind before I did." He cleared his throat and fidgeted with his hands. "I know tonight wasn't a date, but - " he swallowed. "I had a lot of fun. As I said. And, well, I was wondering, if maybe, possibly, you'd like to go out with me sometime. Maybe to dinner, or something. On a date." His green eyes were wide and the color reminded her of spring grass.

"Yes," she said, perhaps a little too quickly. "I mean, well, I meant yes." She laughed and felt her face heat. "I'd very much like that, Pott - Harry."

That beautiful, lopsided smile stretched across his face, and before she could stop herself she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He hesitated a moment, shocked, before he stepped into the kiss, pillowing her bottom lip between both of his sweetly for just a moment as his hands found her waist and rested there, feather light.

"Tomorrow?" he asked as she pulled away, his expression as bright as the moon.

She couldn't keep the smile from her face. "Tomorrow," she agreed.

"I'll pick you up," he said with that lopsided smile of his and a nod before he hopped on his broom. He looked at her once more, and she blushed, then he kicked off and flew away.

Back in her flat, Pansy fell onto her luxurious leather sofa - not modest in the least - and smiled. She touched her lips, imagining his lopsided smile against her lips, and feeling very much like a school girl with a crush.

Hermione hadn't tried to set her up, but Draco had. And he'd succeeded.

Parkinsons kept things close to the chest. They didn't kiss and tell. They didn't go all googly over a sweet, awkward half-blood with beautiful eyes and messy hair. But maybe Draco had the right idea, breaking away from the traditions of their shared past.

Grabbing a quill and some parchment, she hastily scribbled a note to send through the floo.

_Draco,  
You arrogant prat. You set me up with Harry-bloody-Potter, the golden boy who bloody lived. I don't know whether to bake you a cake or throw a brick through your window. You'll be pleased to know he's asked me out on a proper date tomorrow night, and I'm pleased to inform you that you and your meddlesome wife are __**not **__invited.  
Thanks for being such a good, if irritating, friend. And please, moving forward, stay out of my bloody business.  
Cheers,  
Pansy  
P.S. The boy who lived is also the boy who kissed, and it was __**fantastic. **_

With a smirk, she folded the note into the shape of a heart - something she'd learned at Hogwarts - and sent it through the floo to wait for the Malfoys in the morning.

With a grin on her face that should couldn't shake, she changed into her silk pajamas. And not that she'd ever admit to it later, but she fell asleep thinking about a boy with bright green eyes, a beautiful, lopsided smile, and glasses sitting crookedly on his nose. Well, maybe, one day, she'd tell the boy himself_. _


	4. The Wedding of the Year

**"The Wedding of the Year"  
_Rated: T_**

* * *

The day that Ronald Weasley got married was a beautiful summer day. Birds were singing. The flowers were in bloom and magically enhanced so that their scent was everywhere. Ron himself was dressed to the nines in the most expensive silk dress robes galleons could buy, and his bride, Daphne Greengrass, wore a one-of-a-kind gown that rivaled the dress of any princess, any queen, designed by Pansy Parkinson herself. _The Daily Prophet_ was there and well over 500 guests. It was most definitely the wedding of the year.

As the couple prepared for the ceremony, Hermione - who had been asked to be a bridesmaid as what she assumed was a favor to the groom - sat in the bridal chamber, tapping her foot, anxious to get this over with. The other bridesmaids - Ginny and Pansy - were busy fussing with their own hair. Pansy, who'd designed and made all of their dresses, was also going around making last minute, magical adjustments. As much as Hermione and Pansy didn't get along, Hermione had to admit that she'd done a fantastic job on the gowns. And when she told Pansy that, earlier in the day, Parkinson had surprised her with a shocked smile, a thank you, and no biting response.

Snakes and lions, getting along. Some of them getting married. What was the world coming to?

While Hermione tapped and Pansy and Ginny fussed, Daphne - _the bride _\- fussed with her maid of honor, Astoria's, hair as if the day revolved around the younger Greengrass sister.

"It has to be perfect," Astoria said, gazing at herself in the mirror. Astoria's hair was long and dark, nearly black, and Daphne was using a spell to pin it up in big, elegant curls. The style itself was much more complicated than Daphne's.

Daphne - again, _the bride _\- had gotten ready in minutes, so excited to be marrying the man she loved, she just wanted to be out there, to be married. She kept saying that it didn't _really _matter What she looked like, as long Ron thought she looked nice. The first time she said, Hermione had rolled her eyes at the theatrics, but after spending an entire day with the bride-to-be, Hermione had realized she meant it.

"Done," Daphne said with a smile, straightening up and absently smoothing her dress, which Pansy had charmed to have no wrinkles.

"I just _have_ to win him over tonight," Astoria said, a stern look on her beautiful face. "Tonight's the night, you know? We've never found the right time, but I just _know _tonight will do it."

Daphne nodded and gave her sisters a small smile, and when she looked away, she shook her head. "Hermione, do you need anything?"

Hermione really wanted to dislike Daphne. She really, _really _wanted to. Not because she still harbored feelings for Ron - that ship never even truly even left the harbor, let alone sailed - but because Daphne was _so _pretty, and seemed so nice. Hermione very much wanted to find a reason to hate her, because really no one who was _that _pretty could possibly be nice for real. It had to be an act. But, after a whole day with her, surrounded by her atrocious younger sister, Hermione could no longer pretend to think of Daphne as anything other than what she was - a genuinely, truly lovely witch.

"No, thank you," Hermione said, putting her best effort into her smile, for the first time wanting it to be genuine. "Here, you've had a curl come loose. Let me get it for you."

Daphne took the seat that Astoria had vacated and smiled nervously into the mirror. Her makeup was light, and her long, honey blonde hair was pulled half up with tasteful curls. She was a vision. Ron wouldn't know what to do with himself and Hermione found herself smiling as she imagined him when he first saw his bride.

"I'm so nervous," Daphne admitted, biting her bottom lip and looking at Hermione in the mirror. Hermione put her hands on Daphne's shoulders and gave them a small squeeze. They weren't friends, but Daphne had put forth the effort, so Hermione could, too.

"Of course you're nervous. You're marrying a Weasley," she deadpanned, then smirked to take the edge out of her words. "But seriously, anyone would be nervous on their wedding day." She gave her shoulders another squeeze.

Daphne laughed and ducked her head, then looked up again. "I love him. So much," she said, her green eyes big and round. "It's a little pathetic, really, how much. I'm surprised I didn't run him off." Her blush was so flattering, and her voice so sincere, it was all Hermione could do not to hug her as she might a younger sibling.

"It's not pathetic. Not even a little," Hermione said, a genuine smile finding her lips. "I've known Ronald since we were eleven. He's the _least_ considerate, and least observant, friend I have. But with you, I see it in his eyes. Ever since you agreed to see him, he's become a new man. All he wants is for you to be happy. He's _mad_ about you." She squeezed her shoulders again. "I'm truly happy you found each other."

Daphne stood and faced Hermione, then pulled her into a fierce hug. "I'm so glad we're friends," Daphne said, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt for all the negative things she'd thought about Daphne over the last couple of years, for her resistance to being the girl's friend. In that moment, she decided - they _were _friends. And she would put forth the effort from now on. Daphne pulled back and eyed Hermione appreciatively. "And might I say, you're killing it in that dress. Maybe some dashing wizard will catch your eye tonight," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Hermione laughed. It was _very _hard not to like Daphne Greengrass. "Oh, I don't know about that. But thank you for picking such lovely dresses for us to wear. I've been to a few weddings where the bridesmaids dresses were _truly _atrocious."

Daphne just smile and shrugged before being called by Astoria to touch up makeup. Again.

Hermione's dress hugged her waist, then flared out softly to her knees. The straps were thick, covering the tops of her shoulders, and the neckline was squared. Daphne had insisted that her bridesmaids each choose their own color, but Hermione hadn't wanted to choose hers, so Daphne chose a dress in the same color as Hermione's Yule Ball gown - periwinkle. Only a truly _good _person would want her bridesmaids to feel beautiful on _her_ wedding day.

* * *

When it was time for the ceremony, Hermione had to bite back feelings of jealousy and resentment that she'd been successfully holding at bay for a while now. She wasn't jealous of the fact that Daphne was marrying Ron, but rather, of the fact that all of her friends - _all of them_ \- had found love. Ron had found Daphne. Harry and Ginny had been married for over a year. Even Luna was madly, _grossly_ in love with none other than Blaise Zabini. And in all of that, Hermione hadn't even had a date in well over a year. No, wait, two years. But who was counting?

But now wasn't the time for that. Daphne was sweet, and smart, and loved her friend. Never had Hermione seen Ron so happy, so confident. Today was his day - their day - so Hermione would just have to suck it up. She shoved those feelings back into the pit where she kept them and plastered a smile on her face.

The bridesmaids had been paired with groomsmen and Hermione took a deep breath as she prepared to walk down the aisle with hers. They went in reverse order, and Hermione was at the end of the line during the ceremony, so she was to go first in the processional.

Harry was with Astoria at the end of the line - the maid of honor and best man. They would walk out just before Daphne. Beside them, Ginny and Neville, then Blaise and Pansy, and finally, Hermione and Draco.

Hermione had been as shocked as anyone when Ron had asked Draco to be in the wedding. They all knew it was for Daphne - they'd been friends since they were small - but what had been truly surprising was how much effort Ron had put forth to be nice to him since they announced their engagement. They'd even, to some degree, become friends. They'd all made nice over the last few years. She and Draco weren't friends, per say, but they got along. Usually. Well, sometimes, anyway. And now, he was walking toward her as the string quartet started to play and she was wearing a pasted on smile and preparing for the worst. Just in case. However, when he reached her, he simply offered her his arm.

"Granger," he said, his voice low. "Think we can make it all the way down the aisle without killing each other?" He smirked, his tone of voice playful. Oh, the magic of a wedding.

"I give it a 50% possibility," she said, and he chuckled.

"If nothing else, it'll make a good show, yeah?" His tone of voice was friendly, almost flirty, and she didn't quite know what to make of it.

A new song started and Hermione took a deep breath. "That's our cue."

In sync, as they'd practiced, Hermione and Draco started the procession down the aisle. Cameras flashed and they both made sure to smile, even as people murmured behind their hands as they passed.

"They expect us to argue or something," Draco said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, and Hermione felt her grin stretch across her face. "The question is, do we give them what we want, or something better?"

The walk was long - the byproduct of having over 500 guests in attendance - and Hermione glanced up at her blonde counterpart. "What did you have in mind?"

"Something small - we don't want to steal the show from the happy couple - but something _surprising_." He glanced down at her, that smirk still plastered on his face and she couldn't help but notice that he was relatively attractive. For a git.

Before she could ask what that _something_ might be, they'd reached the front.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, and before she could answer - she would have said, definitively, _no_ \- he grabbed her around the waist, spun her once, and dipped her as if they'd been dancing. She couldn't help but laugh as the crowd tittered with approval. Draco lifted her to her feet, bowed over her hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles, then guided her up to her spot on the small stage before taking his own directly across from her. The smile on her face was genuine, and when she caught Ron's eye a moment later, he was smiling at her.

Maybe this was all some sort of bizarre dream. If so, she found she didn't mind it so much.

As if taking their cue, the other groomsmen and bridesmaids all did a little something near the end of the aisle. Blaise twirled Pansy, letting her knee length, coral red dress spin out. Neville and Ginny did a jig, reminiscent of the dance they'd learned for the Yule Ball, and Harry dipped Astoria, much like Draco had dipped her, though without the brush of lips on knuckles at the end.

When she was righted, Astoria shot a quick glare at Hermione, which caught Hermione completely off guard, then smiled brilliantly at Draco. Hermione followed Astoria's gaze to Draco, and her breath hitched when she saw Draco looking, not at Astoria, but at her with an expression that could only be described as _smoldering. _Her cheeks heated and Draco smirked.

It was part of the show, part of the _something better _to give the press to write about, the crowd to talk about. So, playing her part, she winked, and she saw his smirk grow.

When Daphne walked out, all eyes turned to her, but Hermione looked to Ron. She watched his smile stretch, watched his eyes grow misty. The sixth of seventh children, the best friend of the most famous wizard their age, it was nice to see her friend in the spotlight, so happy, for once.

The wedding was short and sweet. The vows they wrote were beautiful. And when it was time to exit, to go take photos before the reception, Hermione felt strangely peaceful. When she took Draco's arm again, the last in the line to leave the stage, she smiled without having to remind herself to do so.

"Up for another spectacle?" he asked, leaning down to her ear. The crowd was watching them as if they expected it, and Hermione shrugged, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.

"Why not?" she said, and she thought she saw his smirk turn into a full smile before he dropped her arm, spun her around, and lifted her over her shoulder, gripping her legs so she wouldn't fall.

She shrieked, then laughed and waved to the crowd as he carried her down the aisle, thrown over his shoulder like some sort of cave man. She felt him adjust his grip on her, and she realized he was making sure her dress was pinned to her legs so her bum wouldn't show. Surprisingly considerate. The crowd seemed to really love it.

When they finally were away from the crowd, he gently lowered her, his chest sliding against hers as her feet touched the ground. She laughed as she took a step back.

"That _was_ quite the spectacle," she said, her cheeks a brilliant shade of pink. "You know, I think we should try to continue this - is _truce_ too cliche of a word? - for the rest of the night." She was rather enjoying the few moments of company she'd had so far.

Draco nodded and offered her his arm again. "Let's up the ante," he said as her arm slipped against his forearm. "I didn't bring a date," he said as he led them toward the garden where photos were to be taken. "Did you?"

"No," she said, narrowing her eyes at him, wondering where this was going.

"Well, be my date tonight, then, Granger. Purely for sake of spectacle and intrigue." He was wearing his smirk, but she thought he almost sounded nervous. Almost. "Think of how people will react. Think of how it'll play in the _Prophet_ tomorrow."

Hermione smiled as they walked out into the garden. Astoria saw them enter together, arm-in-arm, and glared, and Hermione's smile fell. Obviously, the man she'd mentioned earlier, the one she wanted to snag, was the man currently on her arm. "Er, I'm not so sure Astoria will be OK with that," she said out of the side of her mouth. "I think she has her eye on you, and I'd hate to wreck your chances of an _actual _date by having a pretend one with me."

Draco grimaced. "If it's all the same to you, please _do_ wreck my chances. She's been after me for years, and I just - please? I'll owe you one."

Hermione looked up at him, and was again struck by the look in his eyes. _Smoldering,_ for sure. "Alright," she said, and he relaxed. "But, fake or no, I expect the full date experience," she said, trying for playful.

In response, he leaned down, his lips nearly against her ear, and said, "Ask and you shall receive."

She didn't have time to respond as the photographer spotted them and dragged them over. Hermione's cheeks stayed pink through the photos, and when the blush started to fade, Draco would catch her eye and that same smoldering intensity would make her blush again.

* * *

By the time photos were done, Hermione was nervous - truly nervous - about her "date" with Draco Malfoy.

This _had _to be a dream. She'd come here today with the intention of muscling through and excusing herself early. Now, she was to be the _fake _\- she really needed to remember, it wasn't real - date of someone she'd barely learned to tolerate before today.

She watched Astoria approach him from across the garden just after she, Harry, and Ron took a final photo. Astoria said something and put her hand on Draco's arm. Hermione watched Draco pull away and shake his head, and Astoria's face screwed up in anger before she shot a glare at Hermione.

When Draco walked toward her, her heart started doing strange things in her chest. This was a fake date. A _fake_ one. But in this moment, as he walked away from a gorgeous witch who just oozed sex appeal, she didn't feel like it was fake.

"Ready for our _date_, Granger?" he asked as he reached her, standing just a bit closer than was necessary, strictly speaking, and offering her - not his arm, but his hand. She took it, his fingers warm as they wrapped around hers, and plastered a smirk on her face to mask her nervousness.

"More than ready," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and he smiled. He led her into the reception, to the table reserved for the bridal party, and sat them as far from Astoria - who was shooting daggers at them with her eyes - as he could.

The reception, like the wedding, was lovely. There was delicious food, tasteful music, and a dance floor lit with fairy lights and floating candles. But if she were being honest, Hermione had trouble focusing on anything but her _date._

The whole time, he played his part of date, giving her _the full date experience, _just as she'd asked. He poured her champagne. He whispered things in her ear with his arm draped loosely over the back of her chair. And most of all, he made her laugh. A lot.

When the dancing started, she was only barely surprised when he stood and offered her his hand. She took it, no hesitation, and when he pulled her onto the dance floor and held her close - right up against his chest - she let herself pretend that this _was _a real date. It felt so nice, even if it was a farce.

"Having a good time?" he asked, his lips by her ear again. She suppressed a shiver as his warm hand spanned her back and his other gently cupped her hand, holding it against his shoulder.

"I really am," she said, opting for honesty. "A surprisingly good time."

He shifted against her as he readjusted his grip, pulling her, if possible, closer. "Good," he said, pressing his cheek to her temple. "Want to up the stakes again?" he asked, his voice low.

She didn't trust herself to answer, she felt so content in his arms, so she just nodded. It had been so long since she'd been held by a man - a fit, admittedly attractive man, who made her laugh - that she was fairly certain she'd agree to a great deal at this moment.

"What would you say if I asked to make this a _real _date?" His voice was low, but that same undercurrent of nervousness from before was there and her stomach flipped.

"A real date?" she asked quietly, leaning back to look at his face. His eyes were open, not-quite-warm, but expectant. "You want to be on a date, a real one, with me?" He nodded, and she thought his breaths might be coming a little more quickly than usual. "I think I might like that," she admitted, and he relaxed and smiled - a big, full smile.

He pulled her close again and danced her around the room. When the song was over, he let go of her, only to take her hand and pull into his side. His arm slipped around her waist, and she blushed. The rest of the night he was touching her - holding her to his side, tracing little patterns on her hips, holding her fingers - and giving her all of his attention. When he saw people he knew, he shook their hands and introduced her, keeping her in their conversations. When her friends approached, giving him wary looks, he charmed them. When no one else was around, he whispered things in her ear that made her laugh.

By midnight, the reception was still going strong. Hermione and Draco had retired to their table, and she found herself leaning against his shoulder as they watched people dance. His hand was on her waist, warm and secure. She yawned, but tried to hide it behind her hand, really not wanting the night - the date - to end yet.

"I think that's our cue," Draco said into her ear, and she sighed. "Let me walk you to the floo," he said, and she nodded.

He stood, laced their fingers together, and together they slipped out away from the crowd.

"So, did you have fun tonight?" he asked as he led her to the floo, away from the noise of the reception that raged behind them.

"I really did," she admitted, smiling down at the floor. "I'd intended to leave early, if you believe it."

He chuckled and squeezed her hand, the nervousness back in his voice. "Who would have ever thought Hermione Granger would, not only _go _on a date with Draco Malfoy, but would enjoy it?"

"This whole day has been full of surprises," she said with a shrug, despite how her heart fluttered in her chest.

"I had fun, too," he said, before he cleared his throat. She blushed and smiled and she realized she _really _didn't want this to end just yet.

"Maybe we could do this again," he said, clearing his throat again. "Not go to a wedding, obviously, but go out. On a date." His hand twitched in hers. He _was _nervous. She made Draco Malfoy nervous. She felt a surge of confidence.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" she asked, stopping just before the floo to turn to him.

She was met with a half-smile, very different from his smirk. "I'm taking you to dinner," he said firmly.

"Perfect," she said, ducking her head as she blushed again. They stood silently for a moment, and Hermione decided to be brave one more time. "Aren't you supposed to at least _try_ to kiss a girl goodnight after a brilliant first date?" she asked, her cheeks going rosy again.

He smiled and stepped forward. His hands found her waist and hers went to his shoulders. He took a deep breath through his nose as he leaned forward, and when his lips touched hers, she smiled against them. His lips were soft. His hands on her were light. And when he pulled away from the kiss, her cheeks were even more pink, which she hadn't realized was humanly possible.

"Brilliant, huh?" he asked, and she laughed.

"All that means is that tomorrow's date has to be even better," she said, quirking her eyebrow at him. He laughed and surprised her by kissing her again, stealing her breath, and pressing his body against hers in a way that made her want to moan - though of course she didn't.

"I'll take that challenge," he said, his lips just above hers, and she surprised them both by kissing him just one more time.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he said, finally releasing her.

She stepped back and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "See you then." With a last look, she turned, and stepped through the floo, calling out her address in the process. As she swirled away, she thought she saw him smile.

That night, she fell asleep with her fingers to her lips and a smile on her face.

* * *

The next day she went through the routine of any Saturday. She cleaned and straightened up. She went to the market. And she panicked over what to wear. By 6:30, she was sitting at her kitchen table, tapping her foot impatiently, ready for her date in skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a loose tunic, dressed up with some rose-gold jewelry. Thirty minutes. She could wait thirty minutes. It wasn't so long.

With a huff, she walked to her door and looked out the peephole, as if by doing so she could magically make him appear. She'd checked at 6:00, too.

She looked out the peephole and jumped back, a smile on her face. He was out there. Thirty minutes early. She peeked again, sure to be quiet, and saw him reach up as if to knock, then stop himself and shake his head. He went to walk away, then stopped and turned back. He did it all again, and she covered her mouth to hide a laugh. She wasn't the only one who was anxious.

When he went to almost-knock again, she opened the door, relishing in the look of surprise on his normally confident face.

"I'm early," he said, and she grinned, her heart fluttering.

"I noticed." She bit her lip and shrugged. "I'm ready, if you are."

His surprised expression fell into a huge smile and he nodded, holding out his hand for her. "I'm more than ready for this, Granger."


	5. The Hunt

_A little Horcrux hunt AU for you! I've taken a lot of liberties here, so bear with me. _

_Dramione (obviously). Super-duper fluffy (as per usual). _

_JK Rowling is my queen. She's a just and fair ruler for letting plebians like myself borrow her characters._

* * *

**"The Hunt"  
_Rated: T_  
**

* * *

"Who's doing what this evening?" Hermione's arms were wrapped around her middle as their small group stood in their magically enlarged tent. They'd been on the run for so many weeks she was having trouble remembering the schedule. She was also distracted by the gaze penetrating her back - the one set of eyes she was determined not to meet.

"You were on watch last night," Harry said, scrubbing his face with his palm. "So, it's my night to get supplies, and Ron, you're on watch."

"Oh, goody," said Pansy Parkinson, rolling her eyes. Ron glared at no one in particular.

"You had last night to rest," Theo said from where he was sitting off to the side. "Potter and I stayed watch, remember?"

"Yes, yes. I know." She sighed and ran her fingers through her dark, shoulder-length hair. "Watch is just my least favorite." She sighed again, and Hermione was struck by how much Pansy had changed since she joined with them. How much they'd all changed.

"We'll bring you back something sweet," Harry said, stretching and looking to Theo. "Ready?"

Theo stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Ready as always."

Hermione hugged Harry, hating how thin he felt. How thin they were all getting. "Be safe."

"Constant vigilance," he said, and she smiled into his shoulder.

"Watch each other's backs," Hermione said, turning and hugging Theo as well.

"Always do," he said, giving her a light squeeze. "Don't wait up." He winked at them and followed Harry out of the tent and into the cold night air.

"Here," Hermione said, peeling off her soft, gray sweater and handing it to Pansy. "I'll have a blanket in here, but it'll get cold out there."

"Thank you," Pansy almost whispered as she slipped the sweater on. None of them had their own clothes anymore. They shared everything equally, and when there wasn't enough, they made it work. Pansy gave Hermione a tight-lipped smile. "Get some rest." With a quick, indecipherable look to the sixth member of their party, she darted out, followed by a sighing Ron.

The silence in the tent after their departure was thick, and after a long, quiet moment, Hermione turned to face Draco who was still watching her. He was standing near the back wall of the tent, arms folded over his chest, a slight scowl on his face.

"We should get some sleep," she said, hating that her voice was so quiet.

He nodded and pressed his lips together.

"Are you - " she stopped and wrung her hands in front of her. "Where are you going to sleep?"

He stared at her for a long moment, his scowl deepening before he sighed, and his arms fell from his chest.

"Let's just go to bed, Granger," he said, walking to the nearest cot and sitting. He kicked his shoes off and scooted between the cot and the threadbare blanket.

She waited only a moment before she crossed the space, passing the other cots that lay empty, ad sat on the edge of the cot where Draco lay. With her wand, she cast a nox, and the light in the tent was gone. Slowly, she slipped beneath the blanket and lay on her side, facing away from him, wondering if she should have gone to the other cot instead. She would end up there anyway, and it was clear he wasn't ready to forgive her yet.

After a heartbeat, she felt his arms slip around her waist, and he pulled her against his chest. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and gripped his forearms tightly. The length of his body pressed against her, his heat seeping into her skin, and she closed her eyes against the tears that were suddenly seeping from the corners of her eyes.

His warm lips pressed against the cool skin on the back of her neck, and she shivered.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, curling around his arms.

"It's fine," he said, kissing her again. "Really." She felt his breath fan across her neck. "I understand."

"No." She turned so that she was facing him, her hands pressed against his chest. The light was dim, but the moonlight slipping through the tent flap was enough that she could see his eyes. "It's not fine."

"Granger - "

She stopped him with her lips, pressing them firmly to his, and she felt him sigh.

"I panicked," she said, her lips barely touching his with each word. "I don't know why." She kissed him again as his hands gently massaged her lower back.

Draco's lips pressed against her forehead, and she felt his heart beating rapidly, unsteadily, against her chest.

"Is it because you're still in love with him?" he asked, his breath ghosting over her forehead like a gasp. He hadn't asked that question in months. Not since they left on this bloody hunt and were separated, throwing Hermione into a panic. That time, she'd understood why he'd been worried. This time, she was shocked.

"What?" she asked, startled, rearing back so she could look at him.

"Is it because you're still in love with Weasley?" he asked so quietly, looking down at her in the dark. "I understand if you are. Especially with how things are right now." He sighed. "If I'm being honest, when it comes to you, I'll take whatever I can get. Whatever you can give me. I just need to know." His voice was low, and his hands on her were gentle.

She felt something in her chest shatter.

"No," she said, slipping her hands to either side of his face, feeling the soft, pale stubble there. "No, Draco. I'm not still in love with him."

He stared down at her for a long moment, as if he might not believe her.

She scooted up and pressed her nose to his, her hands on either side of his face. "I'm sorry I ever made you think that." She kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry." She kissed the corner of his mouth.

He pressed his forehead against hers. His hands trailed up her sides and curled around her shoulders, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer but less tense. "Then, why?" He swallowed. "Why didn't you tell them? We talked about it, and you said you wanted to - "

"I was afraid," she inserted into the space between them.

"Of what they'll say about us?" he asked, his hands clenching her shoulders tightly for a moment.

"No," she said softly, closing her eyes. She was really mucking this up.

The week before, they'd talked. They'd agreed it was time to tell the rest of them. And it was Hermione who'd volunteered to tell them. And then, when it was time, she hadn't done it. She'd failed.

"Then what is it?" he asked, and the pain in his voice drew her eyes open again. "Why are you afraid?"

"I was afraid that if I told them - " she scooted up a little and pressed closer to him, gripping his shoulders tightly. "If I told them, then we would lose something." She leaned back so he could see her face. "Right now, it's just us. When we're together, it's just us. I can forget that we're searching for these bloody Horcruxes. I can forget that so many of our friends are dead, that we're hungry and dirty and there's no end to this damned journey in sight. And instead, I can just look at you, and for the moments where we're together, the rest of this miserable world fades away." Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "I was afraid if I told them, then they would encroach into our world, and it wouldn't be the escape I need it to be." She sniffled once. "I don't want to lose this little bit of magic that we've made."

"Did you ever think - " he swallowed heavily and released her side to brush some hair behind her ear. "Did you ever think that telling the others might mean our little bubble would just get bigger?" His voice was gruff. "If they know, then it can be us all the time. Not just in stolen moments at night." He sighed again. "We could be us at meals when all I want to do is lean my shoulder against yours and tuck some hair behind your ear." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair back, and she leaned her cheek into his fingers. "Or, when we travel, and we're on foot, trudging through cold forests and fields, I could hold your hand, and it would be so much more bearable." He pulled her arm from his waist and laced their fingers together. "I wouldn't have to pretend I needed to ask you a question in order to be near you." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "I wouldn't have to pretend not to watch you. I could just walk up to you and kiss you whenever I wanted. We could just be."

Tears dripped down her cheeks, and she tucked her face into his neck. He released her hand to wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

"You're right," she whispered, her lips brushing the skin of his neck. "I'm just so scared of losing this." She kissed his neck again. "I can't lose you."

He chuckled and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. "You could never lose me," he said, kissing her tangled curls.

"I love you," she breathed against his neck, and his grip on her tightened.

"And I love you," he said into her hair, placing kiss after kiss there. After a long moment, he sighed and said, "Theo and Potter will be back soon, though. Your cot awaits."

She took a deep breath. The thought of risking the one bright spot in her life set her heart to racing, but she thought that maybe not telling them would achieve that unwanted goal faster than telling them. "You're serious about telling them?" she asked, kissing the smooth skin of his neck again.

"Yes," he breathed, breath hitching as her lips brushed his pulse point.

"Then I think I'll just stay here." She kissed that tender spot again, and he shifted beside her.

"You're not afraid?" His fingers dug gently into her back and drifted lower to cup her bum and pull her toward him

"Of course, I am." She kissed the underside of his jaw. "But I'm also tired of not holding your hand as we travel. Of not having to pretend I don't want to lean on your shoulder. Of not being with you all the time." She kissed the corner of his mouth.

Draco smiled and snuggled under the thin blanket with her. He held her against him, arms caging her securely, and for the first time in months, she felt safe.

They fell asleep quickly, exhausted from their days of travel and of being together, but apart. They didn't hear Harry and Theo enter the tent, or hear them exit again, followed by soft laughter.

In the morning, Hermione woke with the warm weight of her wizard wrapped around her. The sun was rising, shining through the magically fortified burlap of their tent and the air was crisp, but in his arms, she felt warm and content.

Outside, she could hear the sounds of breakfast being made over a small fire. They were whispering - probably about Hermione being in Draco's bed - and she dreaded going out to face them. Not because she was ashamed - she wasn't - but because she didn't want to deal with the questions, the accusations, the stress.

Slowly, she turned so that she was facing him. He was still asleep, his shaggy white blonde hair falling over his face in a way that made him look like a small child.

She thought back on the day he'd come to her during sixth year. He'd been thin then, too. His eyes had been wild, and she'd drawn her wand when he cornered her in an empty classroom after dinner one evening.

_"Granger," he said, his voice cracking. "I need your help."_

_Hermione's lifted wand faltered. "What?"_

_"I need your help." A tear fell from his eye, and she saw that he held not wand. His hands were toward her, palms up, and they were shaking._

_Moving on instinct, she pocketed her wand, crossed to him, and taking his hands in hers._

_"Tell me what you need."_

She'd taken him to Dumbledore an hour later, guiding him by the hand, not letting go as he spoke. His hands shook the entire time. He'd told Dumbledore he'd been tasked with killing him. He'd been tasked with letting Death Eaters in the castle. He'd been told he would take the Dark Mark on the coming summer holiday. He'd told Dumbledore he wanted out, and Dumbledore had helped him.

She'd stuck with him after that. She'd made sure Ron and Harry had understood, had accepted him. And when he'd brought Theo and Pansy to them, she'd made sure they were included as well. It had been rocky, at first, but they were a unit now. And when they left to find the Horcruxes in summer, Hermione had insisted they all go together.

Somewhere along the way - between DA meetings and the smaller planning sessions between just the six of them, she'd fallen in love with him. The night he'd kissed her for the first time was the clearest memory she had.

_"We'll meet again tomorrow," Harry said as he packed up his enchanted parchment and tucked it into a magically expanded pocket in his cloak. "Remember, no talking about this the common rooms."_

_"We aren't daft, Potter," Theo said, smirking as he brushed his hair off his forehead._

_"Still," Harry said, quirking an eyebrow at the sandy-haired Slytherin. "Ron, Hermione, ready to go?"_

_"I have rounds," Hermione said with a sigh. "I'll be up shortly."_

_"I'll join you," Draco had said, straightening his tie and his robes. "We can do rounds together."_

_"Hermione," Ron said, pulling her aside as Draco gathered his bag. "Do you need me to come?" He shot a glance at Draco._

_Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Ronald. I'll see you later." She gently pulled away from his grip and joined Draco, who was watching them with a neutral expression. "Ready?"_

_Draco nodded, and they left the Room of Requirement, walking briskly side-by-side._

_"How are things going with Weasley?" Draco asked, breaking the silence a moment later._

_"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, eyes going wide._

_"You're together, aren't you?" Draco avoided her gaze as he walked, his shoulders tense._

_"What? Oh. No." Hermione blushed. "For a while, I thought we would be, but nothing ever happened."_

_"Why not?" he asked, his voice tight. Over the last few weeks, he'd become her friend, but they'd never strayed into this territory before._

_"It just never felt right, I guess." She sniffed, unhappy with her answer._

_"Do you love him?" Draco asked, his voice gruff._

_Hermione was silent for a long moment. Finally, she slowed to a stop near a large, moonlight-filled window, and looked at him._

_"Why are you asking me all this?" she asked, her heart pounding._

_"Why are you avoiding the question?" he shot back, his jaw set._

_"Do I love Ron? Of course, I do." She took a deep breath. "Am I in love with him?" She paused. "No. At least, not anymore. I think I was at one point, but it sort of just went away."_

_Draco took a deep breath as he nodded._

_"Why are you asking me these questions?" Hermione repeated, and he lifted his gaze and caught her eye._

_With deliberate, slow movements, he set his bag down and closed the gap between them before pausing. When Hermione did nothing more than look up at him, he slowly cupped her cheek in his hand. His fingers were warm. So slowly she was afraid it was a dream, he leaned down and pressed his lips - warm and soft and full - to hers._

_It lasted only a moment, and then he pulled away, his expression painfully open._

_Hermione stared at him for a long moment before a smile crept onto her face. With confidence she'd never before felt, she took his hand and laced their fingers together. He exhaled heavily as if he'd been holding his breath._

_"Let's finish rounds," she said, and he nodded, his hair falling in front of his face._

After that, they'd been them. They ignored each other during the day, but at night, in DA meetings, in planning sessions, they were friends. And on patrol, on the few nights where they each had time to meet in Room of Requirement, they were them.

Watching him sleep now, hair in front of his face and moving with each breath, calmed her. With each of his exhales, her anxiety about what the others would say, how the knowledge of them would change, what faced them now that they weren't hiding, dissipated.

As if sensing her gaze, his soft grey eyes blinked open. He immediately smiled and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She couldn't help but laugh lightly. In all their time together, they'd only slept in the same bed a handful of times. A few stolen moments in the Room of Requirement before they left on this hunt after Draco went to Dumbledore asking for sanctuary. Once on the road, when Hermione and Draco had been on a supply run and had had to camp on their own when a band of Death Eaters was in the area, and it was too dangerous to head back to the main camp. It felt like a missing piece had fallen into place, falling asleep beside him in what was, for all intents and purposes, their home. For now, anyway.

"We should go out there," she said as his lips found her neck and caused heat to stir in her lower belly.

"They're not going anywhere," he mumbled into the soft skin before biting lightly.

This made her laugh, even as she squeezed her thighs together. "Don't be afraid," she whispered as her lips brushed his ear, and he groaned and pressed his lower body into hers.

"Fear is not in my current emotional wheelhouse, Granger."

She felt the evidence of his current emotions and blushed. It had been so long. She considered giving in and just making the others wait, but there's no way they wouldn't hear them, or worse, walk-in on them.

"Come on." She pressed her lips against his softly before pulling away.

He huffed and together they stood, Draco adjusting his pants before slipping on his shoes. Hermione performed a teeth-cleaning charm on them both. Draco donned an over-sized black sweater with a few moth holes near the hem and Hermione followed suit with a less-warm, threadbare cardigan. Pansy still had her warmest sweater.

Hermione looked at him, feeling rising up in her chest. Draco Malfoy, heir to the House of Malfoy, living in a tent, wearing threadbare clothes and barely scraping by, all to do the right thing instead of the wrong. All to be with her.

"Ready?" she breathed, and he laced their fingers together.

"After you."

They stepped out of the tent, and the quiet conversation stopped. Four sets of eyes met them for the longest moment of Hermione's life.

And then, Harry laughed, Pansy rolled her eyes, and Ron started digging something out of his pocket.

"I told you, I never lose," Theo said, taking the coins Ron handed him with a huff.

"You couldn't have waited another week?" Ron asked pouting.

Hermione was staring at them, heart in her throat. "You knew?" Draco's hand squeezed hers.

"You're not the most subtle of people," Pansy said with a very Slytherin smirk.

"How long?" Draco asked. Hermione glanced up at him and saw that he was just as shocked as she was.

"Before we left," Harry said, pouring coffee from the fire into a mug. "I was sure you'd tell us before we left," he said with a sigh.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Hermione asked, head swimming.

"Why didn't you?" Harry countered before he took a sip of his coffee.

"Well." Draco let go of her hand to wrap around her shoulder, and she leaned into his warmth. "What's for breakfast then?"

As if some spell had been broken, the other four started moving again, going about their day as if the entire world hadn't changed.

Hermione watched as Ron handed Pansy a plate for her food. Watched as Harry scooted over to make a space for Theo to sit on the log that served as a seat.

"See?" Draco said, leaning down to whisper in her ear as they watched the others. "Our bubble just got bigger."

Hermione smiled and leaned up to kiss him.

From the fire, Ron called out, "Oy! Do we really have to see that all the time now?"

With a smile on her face, Hermione turned to face him. "Yes." She turned back to Draco and kissed him softly, his arms going around her waist. He grinned against her lips.

She pulled away and retook his hand in hers. Together, they joined the others for breakfast on a log-seat left open just for them. Ron mimed a gag into his breakfast and Pansy elbowed him in the ribs, earning a laugh. Theo counted his few coins in an exaggerated way until Harry stole one and shoved coffee in his hand instead. And all the while, Hermione sat with her head on Draco's shoulder as they quietly ate their meager breakfast.

And even though there were still more Horcruxes to find, still many days, many weeks, of travel ahead, the whole company felt a bit lighter.


	6. Author's Note

**A/N: I've decided to take this set of one-shots and break it up into individual stories. Some of them ****_may _****turn into multi-chapter, short fics, but most will just stay one-shots. Honestly, I just felt sort of guilty, lumping them all together and giving other stories their own little home-link (you should haven't a favorite child), so I'll leave this up for a bit, but all the chapters will be revised (HEAVILY) and then moved into their own little home pretty soon. If you like any of these, please go check out the revisions and keep an eye out for additional chapters.**

**I love all of you! Here's to the HP fandom!**


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